


A Hint of Freedom

by Descaladumidera



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol consume, Alternate Universe, Cigarettes, Gen, M/M, Rude behaviour, Smoking, enchanted Theseus, i guess?, no specific setting, slice of life?, smooth Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: Theseus longs for freedom and the vast, wide world. Maybe the stranger visiting his village can help him; this suave man with his expensive suit and the knowing look in his eyes.





	A Hint of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entry for the [@fantasticbeastscalendar](https://fantasticbeastscalendar.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> And a big THANK YOU to vaderina for betaing!

He is sitting there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a glass of cheap beer in his right hand, and some of the village youth hanging onto his every word—they are barely older than eighteen. Theseus asks himself what someone like this man wants in their little village; suave with his expensive looking suit, pressed shirt, and fashionable tie. He doesn’t look like someone who would fit into their village at all.

‘Who’s that?’ He asks the bartender and nods to the man in question, curious.

‘Always forget his name,’ is the answer he gets and the bartender looks at him like he wants to say, ‘Don’t get involved with him, lad, he means trouble.’ But he doesn’t say it out loud, only gives Theseus this meaningful look and continues, ‘You can’t know him, you haven’t lived here long enough to have met him. Every few years he comes around for some days, makes the villagers go crazy, and leaves again. Odd one. Nobody really likes him—except for the youths. He is something different in the monotony that this village is.’

Theseus only nods and takes a sip of his beer. It tastes as cheap as it is with a sour note to it. _If you already live in no-man’s-land_ , he thinks, _you could at least expect the beer to taste good. Man, I was mistaken._ But he takes another sip, despite his thoughts that are as sour as his drink.

Again his eyes wander to the unfamiliar man who just took a hearty gulp out of his barely clean mug, cigarette casually dangling between his index and middle finger. He scrunches up his face as if he too could taste the sour note of the beer, but a moment later he laughs at something one of the youths has said, a devious smirk staying on his lips. The man’s eyes quickly sweep over the room, stopping at Theseus, who is blatantly staring, before he nods acknowledgingly and his attention is back on the kids sitting with him. Theseus doesn’t stop staring, watching the man, who doesn’t fit in here at all with his suit that has probably cost more than Theseus makes in a month, and his slicked back hair, blond and spiky at the ends, shaven at the sides. It suits him—damn, does it suit him. And suddenly Theseus understands why the kids are intrigued with this man.

He has a look in his eyes that says he knows the world.

Theseus wonders if he is imagining things or if this man really knows _more_.

‘Stop staring at him, lad, someone could think you are in love,’ the bartender says suddenly and catapults Theseus out of his odd musings. Caught in the act and a little embarrassed, he puts both his hands on his glass and stares at the counter. But the bartender only winks good-naturedly. ‘He won’t be good for you, believe me. He is some hot shot in some big city that you’ve probably never been to. And in a few days he will be gone again. Don’t get your heart broken, lad.’

His cheeks are hot and he knows his blush is awkwardly clashing with his hair and his freckles, but Theseus can’t help it. He didn’t think that he was that obvious. But by now the whole village should know why he moved here in the first place—to get away from his ex. His ex who resembles the man currently sitting somewhere behind him and laughing with the village youth. _Damn._

He doesn’t give an answer, just stares at the counter, the words of the bartender still ringing in his ears. Sometimes Theseus asks himself if the villagers really think him stupid and naïve, coming from a small town. For them a small town boy like him is someone who doesn’t know shit about life. Villagers and city people know how life works, but him? No, he has always led a quiet life, growing up in a nice house, sheltered and cared for by his parents, adored by his brother. He has never lived in a big city, surviving between businessmen and -women, or grown up in a village, where people still know and value hard work.

‘Another beer, please.’ Suddenly a warm hand and the smooth fabric of an expensive suit brush Theseus’ bare arm, making him flinch and look up. Right next to him the man is leaning casually against the counter, all sleek elegance. From this close Theseus can see a tattoo winding up to his neck, mostly covered by the crisp white collar of the man’s shirt. He can’t make out what it is and so he pretends he doesn’t care.

Theseus’ eyes wander up again, from the man’s neck to his mouth. Another cigarette is hanging from the corner of his lips and he lifts his hand and lights it with a flick of his lighter. The motion is so smooth and slick like he has done nothing else in his life, other than lighting cigarettes. Theseus stares. He stops when the man lets the lighter slide back into his pocket and looks at him, eyebrows raised, as if he wants to ask what Theseus’ fucking problem is. His cheeks heating up with blood rushing into them, Theseus drops his gaze to the counter, where a new mug of beer is placed with a bang.

‘You paying now?’ The bartender asks.

‘Later. You know I always pay my debts right before I leave,’ the man replies, his voice smooth as velvet, making Theseus blush even more, his heart thundering in his chest.

The scratching of a pen is audible for a short moment, until the silence of an early afternoon engulfs the bar once again. And Theseus is still staring at the counter, now feeling the eyes of the man on him, making heat creeping up his neck, darkening his already pink cheeks.

‘You are new here,’ he finally says and Theseus shrugs. He isn’t really _new_ —he has lived here for a year now, after all. But to someone like this man, who seems to know the world, who has seen things Theseus can only dream of, and who only visits the village every few years, he is of course new. He doesn’t belong here, yet. Not really. Not to _him_. ‘Gellert.’

Theseus lets his gaze wander to an extended hand and warily lifts his own to grab and shake it. ‘Theseus,’ he introduces himself, before dropping Gellert’s hand and adding in way of explanation, ‘I moved here around a year ago.’ He asks himself what Gellert could want from him, why he is even talking to him.

‘Ah,’ Gellert says and an unpleasant smell is stinging in Theseus’ nose when his new acquaintance exhales the smoke he was holding. ‘It’s already been … five years? I think it is five years now, since I was here last.’

A hum leaves Theseus’ closed lips as a way to acknowledge what has been said to him, but it has a note of disinterest. And he wonders, why. Because he wants to talk to this man, wants to ask questions, wants to know what _he_ knows, but next to Gellert he feels so small. Like he doesn’t matter at all. He doesn’t dare to fuck up with this man, who seems to know the world, who certainly knows more than Theseus. Usually he would have to say a lot, but now? Now he can’t make a coherent sentence; courtesy of this man, who is still standing patiently next to him and not moving back to his place. The kids are already looking over to them.

‘Not a talkative one, are you?’ He asks and again blows cigarette smoke right into Theseus’ direction. Theseus scrunches up his face, but he doesn’t say anything, just takes another sip out of his glass, rather drinking the unpleasant tasting beverage than answering. ‘You are from a small town, aren’t you?’

That gets Theseus’ attention and he looks up, sharply. ‘How—’

‘I grew up in one myself, so I can see it in others,’ Gellert explains, cutting Theseus off and sending him a smirk, a knowing look. ‘I wanted to see the world, to travel and make experiences, to be _free_ , so I moved into a big city to make something out of my life. And as you can see’—he gestures to his whole being, all sleek suit and confident posture—‘I succeeded.’

The grin he is giving Theseus seems a tad arrogant, but he has earned it, Theseus realises. He has worked hard and accomplished what Theseus himself can only dream of. He has made something out of himself. And for the first time Theseus does really _look_ at him. And under all the layers of arrogance and confidence he can see the longing in his eyes and the desire for freedom. It’s like he can see himself in Gellert right now, only that he never had the courage to follow his dreams. Instead he is slowly wilting away in this village and not living his life.

He huffs a bitter laugh and looks into Gellert’s eyes, who reciprocates with a sharp grin. It’s in that moment that Theseus decides to lift his glass and hold it out for Gellert to clink. And he does.

‘To freedom?’ Theseus asks tentatively.

‘To freedom and the vast, wide world, and to the fact that we are so small in comparison,’ Gellert says confidently and empties his glass in one go, Theseus following suit. And he wonders if the villagers just don’t like Gellert, because they don’t understand him. He is a hard man to understand, but Theseus does—at least he thinks he does.

With a gesture, directed at the bartender, Theseus orders another beer, which will most certainly taste horrible, too. The bartender just looks at him, sighs and shakes his head, his misgivings etched clearly into his features.

But Theseus doesn’t care, the ice between him and Gellert finally broken. They talk casually, share stories and Theseus even finds the confidence to share some of his own, even if they are not nearly as entertaining and interesting as everything Gellert tells him. The man is a source of knowledge and Theseus feels himself falling—hard and fast.

The alcohol flows and they talk and talk and talk, deep into the night, until their voices get hoarse, but their throats never dry, and Theseus feels a bit like Gellert brings the freedom to him. So he doesn’t hesitate when Gellert asks him if he wants to come with him to the big city. The answer is yes, immediately given, blue eyes wide and excited and missing the look the bartender shoots him.

_Don’t get your heart broken, lad._

 

 


End file.
